The Earl and the Pickpocket. Helen Dickson
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will come knocking at your door.’ After a moment she said, ‘Harriet says you’re extremely talented.’
‘Do you doubt it?’
‘No. That sketch you did of me was very good. I still have it,’ she said, patting the brocade-and-beaded bag by her side, which one of Mrs Drinkwater’s girls had given to her. ‘I shall keep it always.’
‘Why? It was done in a hurry and is not very good. I’ll sketch you another—a better one.’
‘I shall still keep that one. It will always remind me of a time when I was as low as I could get and pretty desperate—and prevent me from ever becoming that desperate again.’ She fixed him with a level gaze. ‘How much will you pay me for being a model?’
Adam became thoughtful. In any of his business ventures he was regarded as a tough negotiator and he would never ruin his own negotiating position by helping his opponents to see the worth of what they held, and the beneficial terms they might extract from him because of it. In Edwina’s case, however, he would do just that. ‘What are your terms?’ he countered. ‘I’ve made no secret of how much I want to paint you. I’m scarcely in a position to argue.’
Edwina hesitated, half-embarrassed. She hadn’t expected him to tip the balance of power into her hands. ‘I suppose we’ll have to negotiate,’ she said with imperturbable feminine logic.
‘That seems reasonable to me.’
‘Money is the solution to all my troubles. Of course, I do understand that, if you are to house and feed me until the painting is completed, you will have to deduct the cost from whatever I earn as your muse. I—I shall want enough to take me to France.’
‘Done,’ he agreed with alacrity, while wondering what there was for her in France that was so important. ‘I will be generous with you, Edwina,’ he said gently. ‘You hold something of value that I want. I am willing to pay you dearly. When the painting is finished I will furnish you with more than enough money to take you round the world if need be.’
Edwina saw the admiration in his smile and smiled a little in return. ‘Thank you—but I have no wish to travel to such lengths. France will do. In return, I will endeavour to be a good model and keep very quiet so as not to distract you from your work.’
Adam grinned. ‘Never waver when you’ve successfully negotiated terms and won. Would you like what we’ve agreed written down and witnessed, or—in the light of your recent masquerade—shall we shake on it and call it a gentleman’s agreement?’
Edwina’s smile widened at the teasing light that twinkled in his eyes. She reached out and shook his proffered hand firmly. ‘A gentleman’s agreement will suffice, I think. I trust you implicitly. Am I likely to meet any of your other models?’
‘At present, no. One model at a time is enough for any artist to have to cope with.’
‘But what about all those people who commission you to paint them?’
‘I’ve put them on hold for the time being. I have a far more interesting subject to paint,’ he murmured, his voice silky soft.
The effect of that warmly intimate look in his eyes, which was vibrantly, alarmingly alive, and the full import of the risk she was taking by being with him, made Edwina quake inside. She did not know this man at all, and yet he was watching her with a look that was much too personal—and possessive. ‘I—I have never considered myself interesting,’ she stammered. ‘I’ve never had any pretensions to beauty—in fact, I’ve always considered my looks, like my views, unconventional.’
‘I won’t argue with that. To me you are unusual, Edwina, an individual, and luckily for you, you are sufficiently sensible to be neither ostracised nor derided for it, but admired, which is the reaction I hope my painting of you will provoke in those who look at it.’ He grinned when he saw his remark pleased her. ‘Don’t let it go to your head. If you’re to sit for me, you’ll have to learn to sit still and not fidget like that,’ he chided gently, observing how uneasy she seemed to be. With her hands fluttering in her lap, she radiated a nervous energy. ‘We’ll begin work in the morning. Early.’
She scowled across at him, irritated by his imperious tone. ‘I do hope you’re not going to turn out to be the temperamental monster everyone accuses you of being?’
He arched a lazy black brow. ‘Everyone?’
‘Harriet,’ she confessed. ‘She also told me you have a vile temper.’
‘Harriet always did have plenty to say,’ he retorted drily. ‘You’ll have to get used to the way I am. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together.’ He chuckled. ‘Does my being a monster worry you?’
She shrugged, giving a little laugh that Adam found utterly endearing. ‘No. I can be temperamental myself on occasion.’
‘Intractable and impudent, too, and frequently stubborn, I don’t doubt. You’ll probably be more troublesome than all my other models put together.’
‘Only if you drive me to it.’
‘My temper can be awesome—that I freely admit, but Harriet maligns me most dreadfully and does me a terrible injustice. You shouldn’t believe all the gossip you hear about me. In fact,’ he murmured, a slow, roguish grin dawning across his handsome features, ‘I can be quite delightful—malleable, too, in the right hands.’
Edwina’s lips curved slightly with wry amusement, trying hard to ignore the gentle caress in his voice and the pull in his eyes. ‘From now on I fully intend to keep my hands to myself,’ she remarked pointedly, ‘and I shall reserve judgement as to the true nature of your character until I have gotten the full measure of you.’
‘And I should have known that a defiant young pickpocket with an unpredictable disposition and no regard for convention would insist on prolonging a disagreement instead of politely letting the matter drop,’ Adam said smoothly.
‘My disposition!’ Edwin exclaimed sharply, her delicate brows snapping together. ‘There is nothing wrong with my disposition.’
‘No? I find it quarrelsome,’ he told her, losing the battle to suppress his smile.
‘And still you want to paint me. Are you sure you’re up to the challenge?’ she quipped playfully.
‘I shall prevail, you’ll see,’ he told her firmly. ‘However, I foresee many skirmishes ahead.’
He laughed and Edwina felt curiously lightened by it. ‘Then I shall strive to have the upper hand every time and out-manoeuvre you at every turn.’
Adam looked at her for a long moment with those magnificent deep blue eyes, knowing that undoubtedly she would pit her will against his, and he already looked forward to the challenge. His firm chiselled lips curved in a slow smile. ‘I wouldn’t advise it. I always win,’ he stated, with the supreme confidence of one who succeeded in all he set out to do, and with the experience gained from years of intimate dalliance with the opposite sex.
Edwina returned his smile calmly. ‘We’ll see about that,’ she told him, at which she decided to let the matter rest. She directed her gaze to the passing scenery, but felt almost smothered by a perusal she knew by instinct never left her. She smiled to herself, knowing that the time she was with him would probably be the most exciting and stimulating time of her life.
They were travelling through a more rural neighbourhood, where the streets were wide and straight, the houses spacious and more gracious, with white columns. The carriage came to a halt before a large three-storey building with a plain brick façade. Suddenly nervous about beginning this new stage in her life, which would happen the moment she entered this grand house—the kind of house that she was familiar with and rekindled memories of a past she had put behind her—she shrank back.
‘This—this is where you live?’
‘It is my home. Do you like it?’
‘It—it’s